


Fussing Over Scars On My Soul

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Begging, Hand Job, M/M, Minimal Lube, Rimming, Spoilers: Who Killed Markiplier, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Lately I’m feeling like a big bang, ‘cause I’ve been making something out of nothing.Warf is bored.Dark is busy.





	Fussing Over Scars On My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by Angel!

Wilford Warfstache was... restless.

Although was restless really the right term for it?

He stalked through the halls of Markiplier TV, and people dodged out of his way, eyeing him nervously.

Which really was a curiosity, now that he thought about it - why would they be so nervous?

Sure, he could be a little fast and loose with a knife, that was true, but who wasn't?

It wasn't like things like that didn't happen _all the time_ , and it wasn't as if you couldn't just get up from all of that.

But he was... on edge.

He'd been waking up aroused, only... not. 

He fucked his own fist or humped his pillow, hips working desperately, but none of it seemed to satisfy the primal urge that was boiling inside of him.

There was only one way to deal with this, really.

Well, no, there were a few different ways.

But the various bits of his head that were usually at odds with each other were more or less telling him the same thing, which helped.

* * *

Wilford Warfstache entered Darkiplier's office, and he smiled warmly at his old friend.

Dark did not smile back.

"Wil," Dark said, in a clipped voice. "Can I help you?"

"You can always help me, old chum," said Wilford, and he smiled.

Dark's face did something complicated that Wilford didn't entirely understand, but that wasn't really his problem.

His problem was that he already had an erection you could hang a picture on, and _nobody was doing anything about it_ , and how was he supposed to go about like that, hm?

He almost sashayed into the room, looking Dark up and down, all but fluttering his eyelashes.

"Would you like to have some fun, friend?"

"I've got things to do," Dark said, his tone flat. 

"You've always got things to do," said Wilford, and he pressed himself against Dark's back, his hands running up and down Dark's chest, feeling along the buttons of Dark's shirt. "You should do me instead."

"Mark won't be pleased, if the both of us are caught fraternizing in the office again, when we should be working."

"He's just got a stick up his ass, because he isn't getting any."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Dark said, and there was something borderline predatory about how he said that. 

"No?"

"Oh no," aid Dark, and his tone was flat again. "What do you want from me, anyway?"

"I'd like you to use me up and put me away wet," said Wilford, his expression completely neutral, almost flat.

He smiled at Dark, and he did the thing with his teeth that always unsettled folks. 

It didn't unsettle Dark, but then again, Dark was a hard one to unsettle.

There was a lot going on in that head of his, and Wilford never entirely understood it, but there were a lot of things in life he didn't entirely understand, and he'd gotten through life by just ignoring them, more or less.

But here he was now, his heart thudding in his chest, and here he was with Dark, two people who weren't entirely people in the classical sense.

So now what?

"I have things to do," Dark said, and he indicated the mess of paperwork in front of him. 

"Anything I can do to... speed the process along?"

"You could get me some food," Dark said, his tone casual. "I'm very hungry. Hard to concentrate on paperwork when you're hungry."

"Of course," said Wilford. "Any... special requests?" 

Dark smiled widely, with a few too many teeth. 

If Wilford had a soul, a little bit of it shivered.

But he didn't, and it didn't; he just walked out, going to find the cafeteria.

* * * 

The cafeteria of the building was relatively empty - Dr. Iplier was staring down at a sandwich with a slightly distant expression.

His eyes flicked over Wilford, and his expression turned worried for a moment, before it was back to contemplating his sandwich.

"Has it said anything?"

"Mm?"

"I've heard the Game Grumps have a talking hamburger," Wilford said, his tone thoughtful. "I've always wondered what that would be like."

"What, to have a talking hamburger?"

The good doctor looking slightly nonplussed.

"No, no," said Wilford. “To bite into something and have it scream as you chewed it."

"... oh," said Dr. Iplier, and he looked slightly nauseated. 

"So... what's good today?"

"There's green jello," said Dr. Iplier.

Wilford tsked. 

"Darkiplier is above such things as green jello," he scolded. "What's good that's food?"

"Uh... salisbury steak?"

"Excellent," said Wilford, and then he was making his way towards the buffet line, where a rather bored looking woman was sitting there.

"Hello, my dear," said Wilford, and he turned some of the charm on.

He could do that, when he felt like it. 

He just usually didn't feel like it. 

He was a pretty charming person to begin with - why add to the pile?

"What'll it be?"

"Salisbury steak," he said, holding out a plate.

She put it on his plate, and he looked down at it - the dish didn't exactly look appetizing, but not much of the food here did.

Maybe he'd sit on Dark's desk and feed it to Dark, forkful by forkful.

His cock twitched at the idea, and he smiled again.

The lady looked mildly unsettled, but then her expression went back to bored indifference.

* * *

Wilford came back to Dark's office, holding the plate in front of him like an offering.

Dark was still at his desk, scribbling on the sheets of paper. 

"You brought me food," Dark said, and he sounded mildly surprised.

"I did say I would," Wilford said, and he put the plate on the desk, right on top of the paperwork.

Dark made a face, but again, Wilford didn't entirely understand it.

"Thank you," said Dark, and then he was eating.

Wilford watched him expectantly, trying not to squirm in his chair, trying not to reach down between his legs and give himself a squeeze, or something like that. 

He was just so desperate - it was like being in heat, or something equally ridiculous.

He wasn't usually quite so easy to rile up.

Admittedly, some of it was just him not ignoring his wants and needs.

He didn't believe in delayed gratification - if he wanted something, he went for it. 

But Dark was all about the chase, about the anticipation, and if Wilford wanted anything from Dark, he'd have to play by Dark's rules, even if it did make him a little bit crazy.

But he could do it.

He'd be fine. 

He was already horny that he felt like he was going to die.

As if he was able to die.

But for now... he could at least pretend to be patient, even as he tried not to squirm or jiggle his leg.

* * *

Dark finished his plate, and then he was looking across his desk at Wilford, one eyebrow up.

"Can I help you?"

"I want you to fuck me," Wilford said.

"I need to do my paperwork," Dark reminded Wilford, "and I need to take this plate back."

Dark was always fastidious about leaving old plates and things like that around his office.

Possibly because so many people were so sloppy about it, and the cafeteria workers had started to go through people's offices to retrieve dishes.

Dark apparently had a few things hidden around here that he didn't want other people to look at. 

Let alone the things that people wouldn't want to see in the first place.

"I'll take your dish back," said Wilford quickly.

"All this effort, just to get me to fuck you?"

"I've been craving you," said Wilford, because that was kind of true.

He'd been craving a deep, hard fuck, the kind of vicious sexy fuck that left him gibbering like something out of Lovecraft, and Dark was the only one who had ever delivered on that kind of thing.

"Really?"

Dark raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes," said Wilford. "I've been awake at night, imagining the feeling of your pecker stretching me out."

"I see," said Dark, and he let the syllables trail off, leaving the two of them to sit there in silence.

"I'll take your plate," Wilford said, both to break the silence, and because if he didn't do something soon, he would possibly snap.

"Why thank you," said Dark, and he smiled, a genuine smile.

He had a lot of teeth in that smile, and it gave Wilford the heebie jeebies, in the most pleasant way possible.

What was the point of having fun, if not for a little bit of fear mixed in?

Dark would never seriously hurt him - Dark would probably never be _able_ to seriously hurt him - so Wilford wasn't worried about anything specific.

But not being able to sit down, feeling the deep ache, pressing the bites and bruises and hickeys... that was perfect.

That was exactly what he needed, more than anything else.

* * *

So Wilford took Dark's plate, carrying it back to the cafeteria, putting it back in the spot that it was supposed to be in.

He wandered the halls again, just for a little while, to work off some of the restless energy.

It wouldn't do, to be nothing but a mess of twitching, when it came time for the fun stuff.

He didn't want to aggravate Dark, after all. 

* * * 

Wilford came back to find... Dark still doing his paperwork.

Wilford did his best not to pout - it wouldn't do to be seen as some kind of tantruming child, even if he was that frustrated.

All he wanted was to be fucked.

Was that much to ask in life?

Especially considering what life had done to him?

LIfe owed him many, many things, and one of those many things was the kind of good dicking down that made one question one’s place in the universe.

Dark might have been a weird amalgamation of WIlford’s dead friends, keeping a dead body alive by sheer force of will, but fuck if he didn’t make Wilford cum like a geyser. 

So Wilford was willing to wait.

He was even willing to be patient.

… for a given value of patient.

“You sitting there won’t make my paperwork go any faster,” Dark said, his voice flat.

“It might encourage you to speed up in your writing,” Wilford said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone of voice.

“Not really,” said Dark. “I’m already restless. Having you sitting there exuding nervous energy makes me more jittery.”

“I’ll do your paperwork for you,” Wilford said, in a burst of inspiration. “You just have to sign it when I’m done.”

Dark raised an eyebrow.

“You hate doing paperwork.”

“I’m _bored_.”

“Can’t you do something else until I finish?”

“I want you to finish sooner rather than later. I’ll do it faster than you will.”

“If you make mistakes, I’ll have to do it again.”

“Then you can take your pound of flesh,” said Wilford, and he fluttered his eyelashes in what was hopefully a beguiling manner.

Beguiling wasn’t exactly something he was good at, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t do it.

“Why not,” said Dark, after a moment, and he stood up, stretching.

He cracked his neck, his knuckles, and then he arched his back, which cracked as well.

Dark was always cracking something, stretching something, trying to get more comfortable.

Dark was never comfortable in his own skin, and Wilford had his own suspicions as to why.

Not that he would ever voice them - he didn’t need to be sent gibbering into the void. 

A lot of Wilford’s mind was like an iceberg - he kept things going by ignoring the underneath bits.

Wilford slid into Dark’s chair, and found it warm with Dark’s body.

This was easy enough - he was pretty good at doing paperwork type things, even if they were a bit boring.

He could dangle the carrot of the well and truly glorious dick that was dangling in front of him.

… not literally dangling in front of him, obviously, because that would be a bit too weird, even by his standards.

He was acutely aware of Dark on the edge of his vision, creeping closer, and in some ways it was like something out of a nightmare - there was a thing that was at least partially a shadow, advancing on him like a predator in the night.

But fuck it.

He was writing out the expenses carefully, when Dark’s hand rested on his shoulder.

Wilford turned around, looking up at Dark.

“Can I help you?”

“Keep working,” Dark said. “I want my papers to be in complete order.”

“Of course,” Wilford said, his eyes on the desk in front of him.

Dark had closed the door, and the blinds were drawn.

It was a very dim place, and the shadows seemed to be getting deeper.

That was a little ability of Dark’s, albeit one that didn’t get utilized that often.

And now Dark was standing over Wilford, looming like a Grecian column. 

And Dark’s fingers were sliding under Wilford’s suspenders.

Wilford shuddered, letting his pen slow down and his eyes slide shut.

“If you stop, I stop,” Dark said, and his breath disturbed the hair at the very top of Wilford’s head, bringing up more goosebumps.

“Understandable,” Wilford said, although he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to.

He was just making noises.

He picked the pen up again, and he began to write again, slowly, carefully.

Wouldn’t do to smudge, after all.

* * *

Wilford’s shirt was unbuttoned slowly, one by one.

His undershirt was thin, and his nipples were already poking through it, as his own arousal began to boil under his skin, like so much steam.

In retrospect, this shouldn’t have come off as such a surprise.

Dark liked to be in control, he liked to tease, he liked to torment.

Was there any sweeter way to do it, at least in an office setting?

… well, yes, there were plenty of ways of doing it, but he wasn’t one to do it that often, was he?

In theory, Dark could have tied Wilford to the chair with his own suspenders, but Dark liked to be more… subtle than that.

Dark was complicated puzzle, to say the least.

“You misspelled “exaltations,”” Dark said, right in Wilford’s ear.

“So I did,” Wilford said, and he crossed it out, rewriting it, his heart hammering in his ears and in his chest.

His arousal was thundering through him, like a herd of horses or a particularly wretched storm on the ocean.

And Dark’s hands were on his chest, the very tips of Dark’s fingers just rubbing over his nipples, making him squirm, pressing his thighs together, his breath beginning to come in desperate pants.

Oh, fuck.

That was… that was good.

All of the egos had the ridiculously sensitive nipples - they all had similar body maps, truth be told, but the nipples especially were… a thing.

And Dark’s hands were just… skating up and down Wilford’s sides, enough to make WIlford’s toes curl in his shoes, as his cock twitched in his pants.

Wilford’s handwriting was no doubt suffering, but he was more or less keeping his cool.

He licked his lips, and he tried not to squirm too much, as he reached for the next piece of paper, to write out the progress report.

Not that anyone would actually read them - everyone knew that these were mainly made to keep everyone busy.

But Dark was the type who would always make sure that he had everything impeccably filed.

There had been other people who were like that - exact, making sure everything was working the way it needed to go - but that was a thought that Wilford wasn’t going to pursue.

He reached for the next piece of paper, and Dark’s chin was on his shoulder, as Dark’s other hand went lower, pushing his undershirt up, and now Wilford’s stomach and chest were bared to the world, and Dark was… Dark’s bare skin was against Wilford’s nipples again.

Dark had cold hands.

Dark had cold almost everything - his body temperature was a few degrees lower than any human being really had a right to be. 

It was like having cold metal pressed against you, except it was soft and pliable like flesh.

Warf moaned, quietly, and Dark chuckled against his neck, like something out of a nightmare.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re holding it together so well,” Dark said, and his tone was only a little bit mocking.

“I’m sure I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” Wilford said, and he kept his voice haughty as he began to write faster.

“Oh, indeed,” said Dark, and his hands were moving lower, between Wilford’s legs, to gently stroke Wilford’s erection through the thin fabric of Wilford’s pants.

His fingers were still cold, and Wilford shivered.

Dark was leaning over Wilford now, and his hand was in Wilford’s lap, beginning to stroke Wilford’s cock in slow, even strokes.

Wilford’s hands were beginning to tremble, and he made an effort to still them, then went back to writing.

He was going to be alright.

This was all going to be alright.

He licked his lips, and the sound was very loud.

The sound of his zipper being undone was even louder.

Then he hissed, as his cock was taken out into the cooler air, and Dark’s cool hand was wrapped around it.

Dark’s hand was warmer than the surrounding air, at least, and then Dark was stroking it, his thumb pressed against the head, making more pre-cum drip out, along the shaft.

Wilford was going to have a messy wet spot on his jeans. 

“Oh,” Dark said thickly, and it sounded like he was aroused.

Score one for Wilford.

“Mmm?”

Wilford tried to sound nonchalant.

He didn’t really succeed, but at least an attempt was made.

For the sake of appearance.

“Well,” said Dark, and he gave it another stroke. “I see you’re almost done.”

“I am indeed,” said Wilford, although he wasn’t sure if they were talking about his erection, or the fact that he was running out of papers to scribble on.

He had been writing blindly, and it seemed like Dark wasn’t paying attention anymore. 

That was good, at least.

The stroking continued, with just enough of a squeeze to make Wilford’s eyes want to cross, as he rolled his hips forward infinitesimally, licking his lips, beginning to pant again.

He was sweating down his face, and his heart was banging like a drum.

His cock was throbbing in Dark’s grasp, and it would occasionally throb again, harder, as he began to rub it harder, hard enough that it was getting… well and truly distracting.

“Well,” said Dark, after some point in time, “i do believe my legs are getting tired.”

“Couldn’t be having with that,” Wilford said, aware that he sounded faintly dazed, not entirely sure how to stop.

If he even wanted to stop.

Would Dark care?

“So,” said Dark, and then he was… pulling the chair back?

That was unexpected.

Maybe he’d climb into Wilford’s lap, ride Wilford.

That hadn’t been entirely what Wilford had been planning on, but it was something. 

A good orgasm was a good orgasm, and even if he was taking dick, Dark always managed to be the one in charge, and doing all of the… well, everything.

So Wilford remained pliant.

“You should finish the last of the paperwork,” said Dark, as he climbed under the desk, and now his hands were on Wilford’s inner thighs, in a way that was honestly pretty distracting.

But no.

Wilford could do this.

He squared his shoulders up, and he cleared his throat, then began to write with renewed vigor.

At which point Dark took Wilford’s cock into his mouth.

Wilford gave a long, low, needy moan - he wasn’t even embarrassed about it, because he was being drawn to this level of debauchery, he was damn well going to enjoy himself.

He dropped his pen, dropped even the pretext of productivity, and he put his hands on top of Dark’s head, tangling his fingers in Dark’s hair.

Dark pulled back, looking up at him with an expression that spelled “trouble.”

“I didn’t say stop,” he told Wilford.

“... oh,” said Wilford, and he was flushing. “Right.”

He took his hands out of Dark’s hair, and he went back to writing, trying to keep his cool, as Dark made obscene wet noises under the desk, his mouth moving up and down Wilford’s cock.

Occasionally he’d gag, or moan, but for the most part, he was quiet, but for the noises his mouth was making.

And then he had all of Wilford’s cock down his throat, and he was moaning, as his tongue rasped along Wilford’s balls, and Wilford was struggling to catch his breath, to keep his cool in any way, shape, or form, as his cock was just… surrounded by velvety, sucking wetness.

Dark was distressingly good at sucking cock, even if he was also… somewhat intimidating.

It was a bit like getting blown by Hannibal Lecter, minus the whole cannibal aspect.

Although Wilford would never put that past Dark, now that he thought about it.

“Say, Dark, old chum?”

“Mmm?”

Dark pulled back, and his eyes were darker than usual, his cheeks flushed.

They were two spots of color on his otherwise pallid face, and it was downright eerie. 

“Would you ever eat human meat?”

“What makes you think that I haven't,” drawled Dark, and then he was sucking on Wilford’s cock again, with renewed vigor.

This struck Wilford as the funniest thing, possibly ever, and then he was laughing, and as he was laughing, Dark shoved the chair back, and he was kissing Wilford with his whole mouth, his sweet mouth, which had a trace of something familiar that Wilford would chase with his own tongue.

Dark sucked on Wilford’s tongue, nibbled on Wilford’s lips, and his hands were on Wilford’s face, Wilford’s sides, Wilford’s ass.

Wilford was shoved against the desk, and then Dark was turning Wilford around, pressing him into the lip of the desk.

He was pressed closer to Wilford, his cock against Wilford’s ass, and his arms were around Wilford’s middle, tugging at Wilford’s pants.

He undid Wilford’s suspenders, and then he was unbuttoning Wilford’s pants, unzipping them, and just… pulling them down.

And Dark was falling to his knees, Dark was… spreading the cheeks of Wilford’s ass, and he was pressing wet, hungry kisses along Wilford’s thighs.

His mouth was cold, his spit was colder, and there was some kind of… neediness behind it, something that was putting Wilford on edge, although fucked if he could figure out whatever it was.

Dark had an ache in him, something that seemed to consume him, and Wilf didn’t really understand it.

He didn’t understand Dark, period.

But sometimes, it was like Dark’s wanting would eat him alive.

Speaking of eating alive….

Dark’s tongue was in Wilf’s ass, and Dark’s hands were on Wilf’s inner thighs, keeping Wilf in place, and Wilf was shaking, his hands planted flat on the desk, his cock drooling down onto the floor.

He was… he needed this.

He needed this more than he needed to breathe - he had his own suspicions about needing to breathe in the first place, although so far none of his experiments had done much - and now he was being eaten out sloppily, messily, with sounds of obvious enjoyment. 

Inasmuch as Dark made any sounds of obvious enjoyment.

Sometimes, it took a bit of… skill to figure out whatever it was that was going on in Dark’s head.

But Wilf rolled his hips, fucking back against Dark’s tongue, and he moaned like he was being paid for it. 

“God, you feel so good,” Wilford, and the hands on his thighs squeezed him, hard enough that he was going to have visible handprints.

Dark was opening his mouth, and he was moving lower, licking and sucking at Wilford’s taint, Wilford’s balls, and his fingers were sliding their way into Wilford.

It was… it was intense.

Without lube, it was a bit of a burn, but Wilford relished it, let it wash over him like a wave, and he was sobbing, trying not to squirm too much.

Dark was holding on to his dick now, and Dark’s other finger was just thrusting in and out of him, and oh, that was sleep.

It was rough, and it didn’t have any of the fun bits - no curling fingers to find the prostate, no sweet arousal singing through Wilf’s veins.

Just the sensation of being filled, of being fucked.

He was going to be fucked, fucked until he couldn’t even use his legs, and that was exactly how he wanted it.

And then Dark was standing up, and his chest was pressed against Wilford’s back, his breath hot in Wilford’s ear.

“I can feel you pulling me in,” he said, his voice thick. “How badly do you want this slutty hole filled?”

“So badly,” Wilford mumbled, and he ground back against the finger, his hands clutching at the edge of the desk, beginning to pant. 

“Beg me,” Dark said. 

No sexy word play, no nothing.

Just a strict statement of fact.

And… it worked.

“ _Please_ , Dark fuck me, fill me up, use your thick, throbbing cock to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore. Fuck me so hard that I slosh in my guts, fuck me so well that I can’t even sit down. Make me remember you every time I shift position.”

“Well,” said Dark, “I suppose….”

He was pulling his cock out, and he was sliding the tip of it between the cheeks of Wilford’s ass, the very tip barely sliding against Wilford’s hole, before he was pressing it between the cheeks of Wilford’s ass, running it up and down.

Wilford moaned, and he ground back, relishing the sensation of being used, of being just a thing for Dark to get off to.

That was, ultimately, what Dark wanted.

What Dark liked.

Dark liked getting off.

Dark liked having an orgasm. 

Dark liked using someone, making them cum, making them crave him, want him.

Far be it from Wilford to deny whatever it was that Dark wanted, especially when it was exactly what Wilford wanted.

And then Wilford was being bent at the waist, face down into the desk, and the various papers were right there in front of him, the ink smearing across his chest, across his arms, and that would have been gross, except it wasn’t.

It wasn’t, because the very head of Dark’s cock was slowly breaching him, and Wilford moaned like he was on camera, because every time he did, Dark’s cock would twitch.

“Oh, you want it, don’t you?”

Dark was moving slowly - they were lacking in lube, and Dark liked to go slow to begin with.

There might have been some uncomfortable friction, as Dark’s thick cock slowly made its way into Wilford’s ass, but it was… oh, was it sweet. 

Dark took almost two whole minutes to slide all the way in, and then he rested there, the curly hair at the base of his groin almost itchy against Wilford’s ass, and Wilford clenched around it, to feel it twitch inside of him.

“You’re so desperate for it,” Dark said, and he sounded almost awed. “I can’t believe how badly you want it.”

“Why not? You’ve got quite a pecker there,” said Wilford, and he rolled his hips, grinding back against Dark, as Dark pressed his sweaty face into Wilford’s shoulder. 

Wilford was going to have to wash this shirt, when everything was over.

Oh well.

Dark pulled his hips back, just a bit, and then he shoved it back in, and his cock was thick and heavy inside of Wilf, and it was cold, almost like some kind of metal, but it was still solid, the skin soft.

Wilf imagined the barrel of a gun penetrating him, and he moaned, clenching harder, and Dark moaned, his hips rolling, beginning to fuck Wilf.

“Is this how you like it?”

“I like it harder,” Wilford countered. “You’ve fucked me before.”

“You want me to just take it from you?”

“Something like that, yes,” said Wilford.

“Well,” said Dark. “Well.”

And then he was just… shoving Wilford face down, so that Wilf’s cheek was pressed down on the ink, and he was certainly going to be a mess.

But Dark’s hips were beginning to move faster, as he fucked Wilf’s ass. 

“You’re so tight,” Dark moaned. “So tight and hot, it’s like velvet all around my cock, I don't’ want to ever leave. It’s like you’re going to cook me from the inside out, but I don’t fucking care, as long as I can keep my dick inside of you.”

One of Dark’s hands moved down between the two of them, and he wrapped it around Wilford’s cock, beginning to stroke it in time with each thrust.

Wilford rocked back against it, his face still pressed into the desk.

His head was still full of the smell of ink, and his ass was clenching around the thick cock, as his mouth opened, and he panted heavily, groaning like he was in pain.

Dark’s cock was brushing against his prostate, and it was enough to make Wilf’s eyes flutter shut, as his cock drooled down more pre, then began to grow more swollen, throbbing harder.

Dark’s cock was swelling as well, and the way was getting easier, as more pre-cum filled up Wilford’s ass.

Wilford was going to cum from this.

He was going to cum with his face in Dark’s desk, like the desperate little thing he was, and he was grateful for it - he thanked whatever it was that looked out for things like him, even as his ass began to tighten, and his whole body shuddered, on edge.

He was going to cum so hard.

His skin was breaking out in goosebumps, and he’d sweated through his shirt.

And then he was cumming, a blast of heat, the pressure in his belly breaking like a bone, leaving him sobbing and gibbering, as his hips jerked and his legs went a little jelly.

“There we go,” said Dark, and then his own hips began to move faster, as his cock moved in and out of Wilf’s ass, drawing almost all the way out, then all the way in again, and Wilford was crying out, groaning, until Dark hilted himself as deep as he could, and then… he was cumming.

He was cumming inside of Wilford and it was deep and hot and thick, and it was… oh, fuck, it was intense, it was almost too much, but it wasn’t, because this was exactly what Wilford wanted.

Some small part of him wondered if this was… exactly the way he wanted things to be.

But fuck it.

Things were never going to go the way he wanted them to go. 

There were a million, billion, trillion stars shining down on them, and those stars didn’t give two fucks about the inhabitants.

Wilford would never deign to think of himself half as lofty as a star, but they were on to something.

He’d be fine.

It would all be fine.

He clenched around the softening cock in his ass, and he tried not to think of anything else, as Dark draped across his back, nuzzling into his neck in a brief moment of affection.

It would pass, soon enough.

It all would.

But… right now at least, he could enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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